


A Safe Harbour

by Tangela



Series: It's Ineffable [5]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Fallen Angels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Other, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 06:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangela/pseuds/Tangela
Summary: Even after all these years, Crowley still has nightmares about the Fall.Luckily, he doesn't have to face them alone.





	A Safe Harbour

Hell wasn’t at all how Crowley had imagined it to be. It was dark and dirty, with a lingering smell of ash and something even more unpleasant underneath. He’d expected pits of fire, what he’d found instead was a dingy basement with no windows and a lot of cramped, miserable people.

So he did what he had to do. He worked hard, made connections, anything to gain trust and prove that he’d be of more use on Earth. Anything to get out of there as quickly as possible. He knew he’d never be able to redeem himself in Her eyes, never be able to go home. This was his home now. But if he could just get on the right side of the Hellish powers that be, then maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

He felt cold without his wings.

He still didn’t understand how it had happened. He hadn’t done anything wrong, at least, not really. He just couldn’t keep taking orders without question anymore, not when some of those orders were something more akin to Hell’s standards than Heaven’s.

“I don’t understand why She spent all that time creating them just to test them to destruction,” he had said one day to Gabriel.

He knew that he should never have opened his mouth about this, least of all to Gabriel, but he couldn’t hold his tongue on the subject any longer. The archangel was fond of bragging on about how things were moving along on Earth so quickly, as if he had much, if anything, to do with it, and everything he said just got further and further under Crowley’s skin. He was a smug, self-righteous bastard, and it took every ounce of Crowley’s strength not to say as much right to his face.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel had replied.

Crowley gestured vaguely. “Well, the tree. She gave them curiosity, of course they’re gonna go for it.”

“They wouldn’t,” Gabriel said, and he sounded so self-assured that Crowley felt his fist instinctively clench.

“Oh, yeah? Just watch. Sooner or later, that curiosity’s gonna get the better of them. And then what? What point does that prove? That they weren’t loyal enough? They didn’t believe hard enough? But they were made that way.”

Gabriel tilted his head, looking down the length of his nose at Crowley. Something he was very fond of doing.

“I’d be careful if I were you. The walls have ears, you know.”

Crowley was letting his temper get the better of him, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m right, and you know I’m right,” he insisted. “They’re barely more than children. Why do this to them?”

“If it’s what She wills, then so be it,” Gabriel responded, in a tone that clearly said ‘this conversation is over’.

He had to go. It didn’t take long before he began to gather a following. Others were being to question. An uprising would be next, and the hierarchy couldn’t have that. Cut out the sickness and the body has a chance to heal itself. No, Crowley had to go.

Even after all this time, visions of what had happened still came to him without beckoning. Clawed at him in unconsciousness, until he woke up in a cold sweat, alone and terrified.

Hands on him, pushing and pulling, on his wings, fire tearing them apart. He knew he was screaming – he had to be, it was agony - but no sound came from his mouth. And then the whole of Heaven was pulled out from underneath him.

He was falling. No wings to protect him anymore, Heaven far above, and Hell far below.

He’d been cast out. Branded an outsider. A traitor.

No longer wanted or loved by God.

By anyone.

Destined to fester in Hell for Eternity, or until he was torn limb from limb by the bloodthirsty demons that awaited him.

Before he woke up, he’d always see a face. The same one that had been haunting his nightmares since the very Beginning.

_Crowley._

A voice. Soft and calm. An oasis from the burning pain.

_Crowley!_

Crowley woke up with a start. A very distressed-looking Aziraphale was standing in front of him.

“How on Earth did you get here in one piece?” he asked, voice fraught with worry.

Then Crowley realised where he was. He was standing on the doorstep of Aziraphale’s bookshop. It was dark, and the usually bustling street was empty. He’d been sleepwalking.

“’Ziraphale? What…?” Crowley croaked, disorientated.

Aziraphale wrapped an arm around his shoulders, ushering him inside gently.

“Let’s get you inside, dear,” he said, his grip on Crowley just tight enough to guide him.

Crowley went without a fight, still trying to figure out how in Someone’s name he’d even ended up there.

Aziraphale brought him up to his flat, which sat above the shop. It was neat and old-fashioned, much like its tenant. Not that ethereal beings needed to eat or sleep, but Aziraphale had become a creature of comfort during his time on Earth. He liked to have somewhere private to eat and rest, and he had become fond of collecting things over the years. Not just books, but paintings and ornaments, among a great deal of other things. Tat, Crowley affectionately called it, and Aziraphale would just roll his eyes with a smile. He could never understand how Aziraphale never got lost amongst it all.

“There we go,” Aziraphale murmured, helping Crowley onto the sofa.

He carefully draped a blanket over Crowley’s shoulders, and it was only then that Crowley even realised that he was shaking. Aziraphale sat next to him, his face still full of concern. He stayed quiet, waiting for Crowley to find his voice.

“Been having nightmares,” he said eventually, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Nightmares? About what?”

“The Fall,” Crowley said shortly.

Aziraphale shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Ah,” was all he said.

“It never changes, it’s always…Always just before it…”

Crowley swallowed thickly, trying to gather the courage to continue.

“Before it happened. They’re all glaring at me like they don’t even know me anymore. And there’s Gabriel.”

The fact that Gabriel was all but spat didn’t go unnoticed.

“He’s looking at me like he’s been wanting this for years. Probably had, the bastard. I never did fit into his perfect regime. And then…”

Crowley trailed off, voice faltering. Aziraphale gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

“And then?” he prompted softly.

“And then I see you,” Crowley said, turning to look at Aziraphale. “And the way you look at me, it’s…I’ve never seen you look so disgusted. I’m losing my balance, and you’re the one to give me the final push.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s always you.”

Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley’s face, gently, so as not to frighten him any further.

“Crowley,” he murmured, “Crowley, look at me. Please.”

Crowley forced himself to open his eyes.

“I would never-” He faltered, stopped, then tried to start again. “You know that I would never- You mean far too much to me.”

“And what if that’s what it all comes down to, hm?” Crowley asked. “When they find out about us. About everything we’ve done. You’re gonna have to choose. They’re gonna make you choose.”

Crowley let out a shaky laugh, but there wasn’t a trace of humour in it.

“It’s me or them. Are you really gonna choose to fall?”

“Crowley-”

“The whole of Heaven, gone. Your whole life here, gone. For a demon? You wouldn’t. You can’t.”

“I would.”

Aziraphale’s voice was so small, and so full of fear. He looked at Crowley, tears forming in his eyes.

“I would,” he said again, insistently.

“Aziraphale-”

“No, you listen to me. My entire existence, all I’ve been told is what to do. What to say. Who to heal. Who to let die. And then you came along. You didn’t tell me what to do. You listened. You let me decide things for myself. You cared about what I had to say. I was created as a vessel for Her Will, but you…You let me become my own being.”

Aziraphale blinked, trying to hold back his tears, but it was no good. They were already rolling down his cheeks.

“If, in the end, it comes down to all of Heaven and Earth, and you, I’ll choose you. I’ll always choose you.”

Crowley opened his mouth to try and argue again, and Aziraphale shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Please don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I can bear it.”

Crowley carefully placed his hands over Aziraphale’s, taking them in his own and holding them tightly. As if someone was about to try and take him away at that very moment.

“They’ll cast you out too,” he said quietly.

“Then so be it,” Aziraphale replied resolutely, squeezing Crowley’s hands in turn. “Better to know who I am than to stand idly by in the name of so-called virtue. I can’t be that person anymore. I won’t.”

Every word coming from Aziraphale’s mouth sounded insane, but Crowley knew by the look on his face that he meant every one of them. It was overwhelming. Never, in all of his years of existence, had anyone ever cared so much for him. Not even when he was still an angel. And knowing that Aziraphale would sacrifice everything, just for him…

It so rarely happened, but Crowley found himself at a loss for words. He settled for leaning in to rest his forehead against Aziraphale’s. Judging by the angel’s little sigh, it said more than words ever could.

They stayed like that for a while, the pain and worry in each of them forced aside, if only to allow them a moment of peace. Together.

It was Aziraphale who finally broke the silence.

“Let’s get you to bed, dear,” he said. “I know how accustomed to sleep you are, and I’d hate to break you of your routine. Come on.”

He stood up, holding out a hand to help Crowley to his feet. Crowley didn’t argue, just let himself be led to bed.

“Will you…stay with me?” he asked, and he hated how much he sounded like a lost child.

How much he felt like one.

Aziraphale smiled.

“Of course I will,” he replied softly.

Crowley had barely laid his head on the pillow when Aziraphale was gently pulling him into his arms. He didn’t put up a fight, just let himself be wrapped up in that warmth, let Aziraphale murmur small words of comfort into his ear. As he felt himself begin to drift off, he imagined soft, white wings enveloping them both.

He was safe here, with Aziraphale.

He always had been.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this isn't rife with spelling mistakes. I'm my own proofreader and I haven't been feeling the best today, so I do hope this reads okay. As always, thank you for your support. Each kudos, comment and bookmark keeps me writing, and I appreciate them very much.


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